


You'd Be Surprised How Long People Wait

by rancheel



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017), Kong: Skull Island (2017) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Childhood Friends, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Mild Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Not Canon Compliant, Tickling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rancheel/pseuds/rancheel
Summary: James Conrad has many things down to a science. Love isn't one of them.
Relationships: James Conrad & Original Female Character(s), James Conrad/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

When Conrad spread the news that he was to be leaving on another so-called “mission” after his most recent “success”, he promised Joanne he would write to her whenever he got the chance as he traveled to the next location.

However, there was no next location for Captain James Conrad.

He couldn’t trust where he’s grown up. His government be damned, he couldn’t stand another second in the heated cesspool that London was. He had to get away, even if he wished he could just stay with his family and his friends.

And Joanne.

Part of his mind wondered if he’d ever tell her the truth. Maybe in the letter he promised her he’d write. Maybe the day she takes him to the ship that he bought a ticket to ship himself to Vietnam.

But he didn’t. He remembers that day vividly. The soft fabric of Joanne’s turtleneck under his fingertips. The warmth she radiated when she held him in their final embrace for who knows how long. The feeling of her lips pressing to his cheek as she slipped the small scrap of paper she wrote her address on into his front right pocket, even though they both knew he’d _never_ forget it. Not after how long they’ve known each other.

When he made it to Vietnam, his first choice was to haul himself and his pack of belongings to a bar.

Soon after he learned about the flat that just so happened to be built above that very bar, he won it in a game of poker. So it was to be considered his home for however long his heart wished for.

A month or two after that, two men came in looking for him and offered money for a tracking mission.

Needless to say, the letter he promised Joanne was most definitely pushed into the back of his mind as he crashed on an uncharted island with some murderous ape trying to kill him and the team he was with.

Conrad barely even had time to catch his breath until he ran into the Iwi tribe and Lieutenant Hank Marlow, but even then he was more focused on fixing the contraption Marlow dubbed a ship so they could get to the other side of the island before the refueling team left them for dead.

Focused on some of the screws in the open panel while Marlow played around with the wrench to tighten nuts and bolts across from him, Conrad was completely in his own world.

Until Marlow decided to start talking again.

“So, Conrad,” he started as he reached a hand down in the cavity, most likely feeling around for a bolt that just fell between wiring, “ya got a girl back home?”

Conrad let out a grunt as he fell upon a stubborn screw that wasn’t wanting to come out of its hole it’s been rusted into. “No, sir.”

Slivko's scoff could be heard as he worked on the underbelly of the ship, popping out of his small hatch that was open, still holding two black wires.

“That’s _totally_ a lie.”

Conrad took a moment to glance over at the young soldier before flexing as he struggled with the screw.

“What?” He grit out, stopping for a moment to shake out the pain he was feeling in his wrist.

“You’ve _gotta_ have a girl, Conrad—”

“Detroit’s got a point, Captain,” Marlow agreed suddenly, stopping from his hunt to find the bolt to clap his cleaner hand on Conrad’s shoulder. “You’re too handsome ‘ta be single.”

Conrad rose a brow as his hands dropped to his sides, looking between Marlow and Slivko. “Am I meant to say thank you?”

Marlow let out a booming laugh as he took his hand off Conrad’s shoulder before going back to hunting for the bolt before Slivko climbed out from the underbelly.

“You’re not really _denyin’_ you’ve got a girl, y’know. Dodgin’ stuff won’t solve nothin’.”

Conrad rolled his eyes as he let out a breathless chuckle, starting to get back into his work, “you’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Safe to say probably not,” Slivko replied as he grabbed one of the dirty rags he saw hanging on a handle before leaning against the makeshift railing. “So you may as well just tell us, man.”

Conrad took that option into consideration just as the screw finally gave, inching out with the rust crunching on every twist the screwdriver delivered.

Slivko and Marlow seemed patient while they waited for a response.

When the rusted screw was out, it fell to the floor before Conrad dug around in his front pocket for a fresh, new screw to put in the correct place in the panel, clearing his throat.

“She’s not my girl, to begin with,” he started carefully as he positioned himself to start screwing in the right spot, Slivko most likely listening for everything Conrad was planning to say. “She’s a friend.”

“Oooh,” Slivko started with some tone of sultry as he pushed himself off the railing to lean next to Conrad as he continued to wipe his hands on the rag, “a _friend_? Is that like.. British code for—”

“ _Not_ code, Slivko,” Conrad snapped suddenly, tensing up from the accusation.

“Hey, easy fellas.” Marlow stopped what he was doing again, putting the wrench down. “This friend a’yours, what’s her name?”

Conrad waited a moment to calm himself down.

“Joanne.”

“Joanne? Sounds exotic,” Marlow quipped with a smile to try and lessen the tension both in the conversation and in Conrad as he started to get ready to work again after swiping his hand on his rag that laid on his shoulder. Slivko laughed and turned to face the man.

“‘Course it does! You’ve been stuck here for who _knows_ how long,” he shot back. Marlow laughed with him for a moment, Conrad glancing up from his handiwork just as Slivko smiled awkwardly, carefully walking back to the hatch to continue working on the underbelly.

Eventually, Marlow and Conrad were back alone on the main deck, the sounds of the wrench only to be heard between the two as they continued to work.

“What’s she like? This Joanne?” Marlow asked softly, almost as if he was talking to a son. Conrad noticed that and decided to ease up slightly on his defense.

“Joanne’s.. Joanne. I couldn’t describe her. She’s something out of a dream,” he replied easily, placing the screwdriver down on the flat part of the wiring to place his hands on the edge of the open paneling to lean his weight against it.

“With that look on your face, I’m startin’ to believe ya,” Marlow agreed easily, still wrenching something. Conrad couldn’t tell if it were on purpose. 

“What look?”

“The love sick one. You look like you’re yearnin’ for somethin’ ya can’t have,” Marlow elaborated almost as easy as the breeze blowing over the land for a moment to let the sticky humidity feel as if it were gone for only a moment.

Conrad felt his face pull into a look of confusion, his hip cocking out as he kept leaning on the panel to watch Marlow work.

“I’m not sure I understand, Marlow.”

“She special to you?” Marlow asked suddenly, stopped completely and placing the wrench down to look up at Conrad. He didn’t hesitate to give him a serious gaze like he did earlier in the day.

“Yes. She is.”

“Don’t let her slip between the cracks,” Marlow insisted firmly, a hand starting to move to point at Conrad. “Do _not_ leave her in the dark, y’hear me, kid? If you feel that strong about her, let her know.”

Conrad felt like he was being given a reality check. Marlow’s words stirred something inside of him, and he wasn’t too sure if it were a good or bad thing.

“Yes sir.”

Marlow seemed to be pleased with that response before grabbing his wrench and getting his hands deep back into the wiring as Conrad took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Did he have _that_ strong of feelings for Joanne? And if he did, what would have been stopping him from admitting it?

Then it hit him. 

The letter.

Conrad was quick to push off of the panel’s edge to start walking towards the dock, a man on a mission.

“Hey!” Slivko yelled after him as he popped up with wires in his hands, “Conrad, where you goin’?!”

Marlow said something in response as Conrad made his way up the dock now, heading in the direction of where they left the vast majority of their bags and guns.

The second he’d entered Marlow’s shared quarters with the group, he dug up whatever he could to write with and on before he just started writing.

He wrote for the rest of daylight, even into nightfall. 

Conrad was well aware that he wasn’t going to be able to send the letter off until he got back to the mainland. He didn’t even know _when_ that would be. He just knew that it had to get done. It’d been put off too long, and Marlow was right.

Don’t let her slip between the cracks.

The next few days on the island were nothing short of hectic and life threatening.

Conrad was genuinely terrified for his life, but he was good at hiding it for the sake of his team. The only time he finally let himself stop being the leader was the second everyone touched the mainland off of the boat. But then he and Weaver were taken into custody by some burly men into a room fit for investigations.

He didn’t have time for this. The pacing started quick almost the second he and Weaver were left alone in the room. He was all nerves.

Conrad just wanted to get a ticket back _home_.

His arms were crossed firmly across his chest before his feet were planted in front of the main window, only to see his own reflection.

The island really did a number on him. 

“Is this fun for you?” He questioned roughly, his gaze burning through the one way glass. No response, no crackle of an intercom. “I promise I won’t tell the Russians.”

“I promise I will tell the Russians,” Weaver shot back with just as much venom Conrad had before his arms were uncrossed as he walked back to his seat.

“Fine, she’s gonna tell the Russians.” The metal chair was the most comfortable thing that he must have sat in since the week started. 

Provoking got them nowhere as they continued just talking into the one way window, until finally, _finally_ , the door they came in opened and in walked Brooks and Lin, carrying files and two styrofoam cups in clean clothes. 

If Conrad had half the mind to ignore his bubbling anger, he’d feel jealous. He still wore the same dried sweat and dirt from the mission.

“Brooks, what the hell is going on?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep posting all these chaptered things and have no clue when I plan on finishing them just because I'm so excited to push them out into the void for people to read since I'm trying to spice up my writing style and the like. Second chapter to this will be out eventually! (it's half written already, so hopefully eventually= soon)


	2. Chapter 2

Monarch recruited him, essentially. To use him for his tracking skills in their ongoing investigations for years to come.

Conrad was firm and demanding when he said he’ll think about the offer on his way back to London after he got the pay he was promised. Monarch’s head operative commended him for that, and gave what was asked for. He even threw in an extra bit of money for Conrad's troubles.

London was as damp as Conrad remembered it when he stepped off Monarch’s private jet (he couldn’t believe that, either. A _jet_ that was _private_ ). His bag he started with was significantly lighter than it was when he left London a mere few months ago, but he was sure that his heart was carrying the remaining weight that it didn’t have.

Conrad never thought he’d be back in London. Ever. He still held disdain for his failed mission, but those thoughts he’d learned to tolerate and grow to be bigger than for the most part.

Even if the situation was complete and utter bullshit.

There was a driver waiting with his name on a sign after he got through the barely occupied airport. Conrad held back a grimace and nodded kindly to the driver before striking up a small conversation until he was in the back of a cab.

He rattled off Joanne’s address almost too fast for the driver to catch it.

Conrad didn’t know if he was starting to feel anxious or excited. Maybe it was a mix of both. The letter he wrote before he left the island was burning in the same front pocket Joanne had slipped her address into all those months ago, and he had no clue if he wanted to give it to her instead of speaking. Maybe he could just speak and ignore the letter he had written in the heat of the moment back on the island.

The whole cab ride he tried to figure out how to perfectly tell her everything without giving away too much information. From the mission that was to be failed from the start to Kong and the island. He didn’t even take the time to think about how he was going to mention his feelings are actually more than friendly for her.

He wasn’t one to overthink anything, but he found himself overthinking all the facts that he wondered if he should even mention. Conrad was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t even notice he was outside her flat building until the cabbie cleared his throat.

Conrad was quick to thank the man, starting to feel around for his wallet until the cabbie said that the payment would be taken care of by the person who had arranged the pick up and that he can go ahead and go.

He couldn’t argue then, even if he wanted to ask who sent the car in the first place.

Conrad had his bag on his back as he made the trek up the steps of the building and taking the time to stop just before the door to stare at the doorbell that had Joanne’s name labeled next to it.

What if she wasn’t happy to see him? She was probably mad at him for the radio silence, and he knows she despises that with all her being. He remembers from previous letters when he was on _actual_ missions.

All of his thoughts started to muddle into a ball when he pressed on her doorbell.

He stuck to doing breathing exercises to be sure he didn’t panic.

This was the girl that he _loved_ , after all.

The second Joanne opened the door, it was all a blur from there.

Conrad felt her somewhat small frame collide with his before starting to cling to him tightly in a hug. His arms went around her at almost the exact moment he could feel her take a small step closer to him. 

“James?” Joanne asked softly once she pulled away from the warmth of his chest, letting out a soft gasp at the cut on his cheek, her hands going to cradle his face in them. “Oh my god, _James._ ”

He knew the second he felt how _real_ she was in this moment—in her hands and her in his—and for however many more moments after this, he wasn’t Conrad.

He was James. _Her_ James. The James that teases her lovingly about how she takes her tea, and the very same James that realized that he’s fallen for her in more ways than one.

“Get inside and let me look at that,” Joanne insisted quickly, already moving her hands from his face and pushing him into the open door after swatting his hands that had rested respectfully at her waist. He was on autopilot now, and he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to do anything he planned.

Joanne locked the door behind them before leading the way up the stairs to her flat, holding tightly onto James’ hand. Her door was already cracked open and she kicked it open gently before doing what she did downstairs and shoved James into her living room so she could shut the door.

After they both steadied themselves, unable to hold back some laughter at the way James stumbled in from getting shoved, he placed his bag on the ground momentarily to shed his jacket and shoes off at the door while Joanne rushed to get a kettle filled so she could get some water for tea ready.

James took a minute to look around the small living space, noting a few new pictures and paintings that seemed to coordinate with some newer pieces of furniture. It was still comfortable, warm, and inviting as it always was.

It really felt like home.

He picked up his bag by one of the straps and placed it next to his shoes before carefully sitting down on the couch, holding back a groan from the feeling of the world’s softest cushions.

It really seemed like this was all too good to be true.

“So I haven’t really updated my first aid pack since the last time, but I _can_ clean it for you,” Joanne started, padding down the hallway with a small red zip up bag, holding a few cotton balls as she dug around.

“That’s perfectly fine,” James replied softly, not wanting to disrupt the peace. Joanne smiled as she navigated expertly around his long limbs before James could pull them back for her to walk past, sitting next to him on the couch as her fingertips were back on his jawline.

“Turn your head this way please, Jamie.”

James let out a dramatic groan as his face screwed up with disgust from the nickname. “If you get to call me Jamie, I’m allowed to call you JoJo, you know.”

Joanne just laughed quietly as his head rolled over to where the cut was on full display on his cheekbone.

“Nevermind, forget I ever uttered that.”

James let out a huff of a laugh before quieting down and letting Joanne get to work on cleaning the cut. He knew it was clean, since he cleaned it himself mere hours ago on that stupid private jet after his shower, but he wouldn't mind an excuse to have Joanne this close to him for a bit.

“You’re home early from that mission,” Joanne said quietly as her face was a mere few inches from his as she pressed a damp cotton ball to the infected skin. James barely shifted under her weight as he let his eyes fall open to watch her as she worked.

“About that..” James started, letting out a small hiss when he felt the alcohol touch more of the open part of the cut, “it wasn’t actually a mission.”

Joanne’s brows pulled together in confusion as she let out a soft apology, placing the now used cotton ball on the coffee table close by.

“What do you mean?”

James took in a deep breath through his nose as Joanne started to fix the first aid pack between the two of them. He could feel his heart speed up from smelling her familiar perfume.

“On the last mission I was on, in Malaysia, if you remember my retelling from months ago,” James started carefully as Joanne placed the now closed pack on the coffee table, leaning back to get comfortable and listen closely. “It wasn’t as successful as I put it then. The mission was destined to fail, no matter if I had been successful or not.”

“Can you tell me what you mean by that, James?” Joanne questioned, sitting up straight now as her hands sat in her lap, James moving to sit up straight as well.

“I can’t, no. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

Joanne let out a sigh and rubbed her hands over her face gently.

“So what the hell have you been doing for the past 4 or so months?”

It was James’s turn to let out a sigh this time. “Backpacking in Vietnam. Drinking, gambling. Freelance work.”

While Joanne started to process what was said, the kettle started to whistle. In an instance, she was up to take it off and continue flawlessly performing in her role of the worried hostess.

But James knew that any moment Joanne could possibly start asking her questions in return and that there could possibly be tears involved. That’s what usually happened when he was greeted at the door like he was mere minutes, perhaps even half an hour ago now.

Joanne was back just as quick as she left, carefully holding the mugs they usually use for when they have tea, gently placing his on the coffee table before getting herself situated back on her perch of the couch to watch and listen to James talk.

It was almost as if she was trying to make sure he wouldn’t disappear in front of her eyes, now that he took a moment to think about it.

“You still favor Earl Grey, I presume?” Joanne asked once her feet were comfortably tucked under her. James was quick to nod in reassurance and grab the mug for himself.

“Splash of milk. Unlike yourself,” he teased effortlessly as he went ahead for a sip, Joanne groaning softly.

“Do _not_ start with that, Conrad. Anyways. Freelance work? What kind of super-secret code is that for this time?”

James took a moment to chuckle after he swallowed the small amount of tea he sipped, pleased to feel the slight twinge pain come from something that wasn’t disgusting food from a can.

“Nothing, quite literal freelance work.”

“Probably could have found time for a letter or two then,” Joanne mumbled quietly after blowing slightly into her mug.

James let out a soft sigh of resignation, taking one last sip of the hot tea before placing it back down on the coffee table to look at Joanne and gaze into her emerald eyes that only seemed to intensify due to the deep wine color of her sweater.

“The last freelance job I took up sent me out to a deserted island for about a weeks time, I.. I had no clue as to when I’d be able to send the letter I had written—”

“When did you take up that job? The island job?”

“As of today?” Joanne nodded, leaning to her right to place her mug on the coffee table. “I took it two, almost three weeks ago. Just got back yesterday morning.”

“Jesus, James,” Joanne started softly, running a hand through her waved hair. “You’re making it a little hard for a girl to be mad at you right now, you know.”

He huffed out a chuckle, holding his hands up playfully.

“Guilty as charged.”

The two of them shared laughter once more before they both grabbed their tea mugs and gently tapped them together in a small toast before leaning into the comfortable couch.

“I did write a letter though, albeit it was written in a spur of the moment with terrible lighting,” James elaborated softly as he felt Joanne shift closer to his side, their legs barely a centimeter apart.

“I’m more than sure you’ve made it long-winded like you always do regardless,” Joanne said smugly, earning a small gasp of offense from James before she put her mug down again. “Kidding! Kidding.”

"Sure you are," James huffed out dramatically, moving to take a long sip of his tea.

That’s how a vast majority of their afternoon went, going through Joanne’s Earl Grey stash and just catching up on the lost time between them.

Just like every mission James has come back from.

It felt right for him, just to be in her presence as they cracked jokes and figured to cook dinner together.

It was almost like they weren’t apart for almost 5 months.

Joanne insisted they make pasta primavera since she actually had everything that was needed to make it and mumbled something that James didn't quite catch just after cutting the vegetables, the small portable radio Joanne kept in the kitchen turned up to her favorite station.

James was in the midst of placing the pot of water that was for the pasta on the stove top when he was offered some wine. Before he even processed the question, he said yes.

Anything to make the night last longer.

Eventually, James set the table while Joanne happily mixed the sautéed vegetables with the pasta and they sat to eat at what felt like the world's smallest dining table.

And that's when Joanne brought it up.

"So," she said just after swallowing a bite of her food, grabbing her wine glass, "do you have it? The letter, I mean."

James hesitated for a second, which he hoped was unnoticed by Joanne, clearing his throat once he swallowed his own bite of food.

"Uhm. I do, yes."

Joanne's eyes lit up in that instance at his confirmation, ignoring his reaction completely as she sipped her wine. "Read it to me?"

If James had been in the middle of drinking or eating, he fears he may have choked. Thankfully, he felt his body tense up instead of meeting his demise.

"I.. I don't think—"

"Come on!" Joanne exclaimed suddenly, her glass placed back on the table. "I don't see why you shouldn't. Afterall, you did write it yourself. One way or another I'm going to know what you wanted to say to me all those days ago."

James just let out a nervous laugh, moving to get up with his empty wine glass for a refill. "Joanne, I've already said everything I wrote in the letter."

"Now that's a _lie_ , Jameson," she teased as she pushed back in her seat, quietly getting up onto her feet. "Where is it?"

"None of your concern, Miss Sandford. At ease."

Joanne let out a quiet huff, watching James as he uncorked the bottle of wine they were sharing and started to fill his glass as she continued taking light steps to try and put her plan she just thought of to action.

James was sure to place the cork back in the bottle and just as he was about to grab his wine glass, Joanne's hands easily found their way under his shirt to skim his sides with light touches that caused him to flinch with a sudden burst of laughter from the feeling. "Jo-Joanne!"

With one hand, she continued hitting all the spots she could remember James was ticklish at to distract him while her other hand dove into his front right pocket.

James was always _so_ predictable when Joanne took a moment to think like him.

"Ha!" She exclaimed once she backed away from a panting James who was still laughing from the sudden assault. His stomach hurt from the laughter, until he looked up to see her holding the folded piece of paper he used when he wrote the letter in her hands.

From then, his stomach dropped with the impending anxiety he felt earlier in the day. His face didn't show it, but he was most definitely terrified to have Joanne read the words on that sheet of paper—aloud or in her head—while he was in the room to see her immediate reaction.

"Joanne—"

"I know, you're about to call me a minx and then I'm going to keep pushing your buttons," Joanne replied quickly, already starting to slowly unfold the paper. "I'm reading this letter, James Conrad. Don't even try to charm your way out of it."

James didn't let her words register as he took a step towards her, about to grab the paper until Joanne's hands slipped just out of his reach. 

" _James_."

"Joanne." James took another step quickly to try and snag the letter, only for Joanne to hop up on her dining chair, her arms extending to almost touch the ceiling as she continued to open the letter. 

He just sighed in defeat, deciding to cross his arms and watch her unfold the letter as she smiled excitedly at the defeated reaction of James Conrad.

Dramatically, Joanne started to clear her throat, turning her head up to where the letter was completely open to read James horrendous handwriting.

"'Dear Joanne, I'm sorry this is coming to you so late'," she recited, her voice lowering as if she was trying to sound like James in this instance. He would be laughing if he didn't know what the letter entailed. "'I've been busy and I'll explain it much better once I'm back in London, but I've been meaning to tell you something and I thought here and now—in this letter—would be the best way to say it'."

James couldn't help but wince at that. He really did pour his heart out into that letter. Probably because he thought that he wasn't going to make it back to London-- to _her_. He shuddered to think back to merely five days ago when he wrote that letter, Marlow's words starting to play in his head again _._

He noticed Joanne's voice slipped back into her normal tone as her arms lowered slowly, reading the next sentence aloud: "believe me when you read this, Joanne. I love you."

The silence after she read that sentence aloud was tense. James watched as she scanned the page repeatedly. Was she rereading that line specifically? Was she reading ahead? He couldn't tell. There was one thing James could most certainly tell in that moment, however. His heart was _pounding_. As if he were running to an unknown destination, which he's done far too often in his somewhat young life.

The letter was held at a normal spot, in front of Joanne's face as she apparently kept reading, some of her hair curling into her face that James had the sudden urge to move. But he wanted her to make the first move, for he was too scared to do it himself. He let his arms fall to his sides.

Neither of them said anything. James seemed like they were both in shock, knowing what the letter contained.

He took a deep breath. " If... If you'd like for me to leave—"

"No," Joanne said suddenly, sternly even as she let one hand hold onto the letter while the other clapped down hard on James' shoulder. "Don't."

James was quick to comply, staying still as he let his hands slip into his pockets. Her touch only amplified his heart in his ears as he took a moment to look down at his sock clad feet to try and calm himself down. For the first time in his life, James wasn't sure what to say or do with Joanne. It was unnatural, and he itched to just hold her and use his actual _voice_ to explain how he felt about her.

Yet she pushed and found a way to the letter.

While James was stuck in his head, Joanne took a moment to step down from the chair and place the note on top of the seat which let her hand leave his shoulder for a moment before she stood before James.

His head snapped up the second he saw her cream colored socks next to his black ones.

James scanned her face while Joanne had done the exact same moments before his head whipped up to look at her. She looked... Well, James wasn't too sure. He's seen this emotion many time when she talked about flings she's had.

He never knew he'd be on the end of them.

"You... You _love_ me?"

"Yes," James said quickly, not hesitating in the slightest. "Ever since that party your brother threw to celebrate me getting into the SAS."

Joanne seemed taken back. "Really?"

"Well, it's when I finally came to terms with it," James replied, "The day I realized was when you came with me and my family to that small cottage in the country when we were barely.. barely teens."

Joanne seemed to take in James' features as he spoke again, nodding. "Almost skinny dipping until I talked you out of it?"

James nodded, letting out a chuckle. "Yeah. And waking up early in the mornings to sneak away to the pond in the forest to sword fight."

"You were _always_ better than me," Joanne huffed out, laughing quietly with James as they recounted their childhood together. "I guess it made sense, given you're a decommissioned soldier now."

"You think we fought with _swords_?" James asked incredulously, scrunching his face up as his laughter started to get a bit louder. Joanne joined him in laughing, looking down at her hands.

"Yes! You never told me much about your missions, what was I to do? Twiddle my thumbs while I did school work?"

They started to laugh a bit harder at the statement, James feeling the tension loosen slightly as their laughter died out after a few minutes. Silence took over the conversation, and it did feel slightly awkward, but very much them.

"Do.. Do you, uh," James stammered, a hand coming from his pocket to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tried to gather his thoughts properly. "Do you feel the same, Joanne?"

Joanne had a fond look on her face. She looked smitten. And yet, as James moved to pocket his hand, he just had to _keep talking._

"It's perfectly okay if you don't. I completely understand if there's someone else. After all, I _did_ just come back after months of being away. You don't deserve that, you deserve so, so, _so_ much more—"

"James," Joanne said sternly, placing a finger on James' lips momentarily, removing them once he quieted himself.

"Yes?" He asked quietly, as if he had to whisper so they weren't caught by their parents. The hand Joanne used to silence him moved to cup his face on one side while the other was starting to toy with the hem of his shirt's collar while leaning in to invade his personal space.

"Kiss me," she demanded breathlessly, just a mere centimeters away from James' lips.

After her demand, James didn't waste a second connecting their lips together, letting his hands come from his pockets to let his hands sit at her waist.

The kiss was slow at first, James being extremely hesitant as he felt Joanne grip at his shirt collar tightly before he moved his head slightly to put more passion into the kiss.

In that moment, with his lips on hers, he realized he wasn't running to an unknown destination. He was running back to Joanne, in every sense of the phrase. Whether it be in the form of a letter, or face to face like this, he was running back to Joanne.

And he made it.

He took his time with the kiss, taking in the feeling of Joanne's satin-like lips as he curled his fingers into her sweater, nipping at her bottom lip almost as if he were asking for permission. Joanne got the hint and happily retaliated by trailing the tip of her tongue against James' lips before deepening the kiss as she licked hotly into his mouth.

James would be lying if he didn't find that _painfully_ arousing.

He let out a mix of a growl and a groan as he felt Joanne start to push him back to run into the dining table, gasping when he felt the edge pressing into his ass while Joanne bit down on his lower lip, starting to pull away from the kiss and letting his lip go to snap back into place. Both of them were breathing heavily as they kept their grip tight on one another, not willing to move for most likely the same unspoken reason.

James moved a hand to grip the edge of the table so he could keep his balance, his hand splaying across Joanne's lower back as they looked at each other. He decided he loved how Joanne looked with kiss swollen lips as his eyes kept coming back to looking between her eyes and her lips.

 _He_ caused that. He was giddy just thinking about it.

Their breathing was regulated by the time their lips were reconnected, the kiss this time around being more heated and involving more tongue and teeth as Joanne's hands started to travel under James' shirt again to rest her hands on his abs and occasionally rake her nails down the heated skin. James was trying to keep his hand he was using for support on the table so he didn't let Joanne just shove him onto the occupied table top.

Joanne disconnected her lips from James' and started to trail hot, wet kisses down his jaw to get to his neck as she mumbled: "get on the table, James."

Her voice was sweet as honey as she let out another soft demand that James couldn't even make out as she started to nip at some of the skin she's previously kissed. 

"What about the food?" He questioned breathlessly. He already knew the answer, but it wasn't his home to ruin. Joanne let out a high pitched huff and let her hands move from James' abs to lace through his belt loops and tug his hips to hers.

" _Fuck_ the food. Get on the damned table, Conrad. We can clean it later," she replied as she pulled away from his neck to look up into his lust blown eyes. "I need you."

James was happy to fulfill her request after the plates were shoved off the table top before carefully climbing on, grabbing the still half full wine glass to pass to Joanne as she took in James' body from this angle. "If this table breaks, I'm not buying you a new one."

Joanne scoffed while taking the wine glass and moved to quickly put it on the closest counter top that wouldn't be disturbed by their upcoming activities.

"I don't expect you to, this is afterall my request. And besides," she continued, turning back to look at James as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch Joanne put her hair up as she moved to the edge of the table, "breaking the table is better than breaking my _bed_ , wouldn't you say?"

James couldn't help the chuckle that was coming out of his throat as he laid back completely to have his hands free. Joanne carefully mounted the table, happily sitting just at his hips and almost rubbing up against the noticeable bulge in his tight jeans. "What makes you think I couldn't do both?"

Joanne had a smirk on her face as she shifted her hips to have her clothed core just over where James wanted, her face hovering over his as some of her hair that was already coming out of her bun she made.

"No one said you couldn't try."

His smirk matched hers the second the words were out of her mouth and he placed his hands low on Joanne's hips, "I'm holding you to that, Sandford."

"I hope you will, Conrad," she replied huskily before leaning down and reconnecting their lips in a searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....welcome to quarantine writing, I'm your host, rancheely and today I'll be showcasing this piece of art that only took a day and a half to nail. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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